Almost Human
by Chickenthehumen
Summary: Where do nations come from, and where do they go when they fall? This story follows one nation from the beginning as he learns just what it means to be a nation, and how precious the gift of life is. Eventual PruCan and FACE family.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, here goes my first fanifc. Just to say, this one is probably going to be a little depressing... Eh, I don't know. Just thought I'd better mention it.**

As far as the eye could see, there were trees. They raised prickly arms to the sky, catching each and every snowflake that fell into their icy embrace. The wind howled on with ferocious might, but none of it reached the boy below. The trees, even the land itself seemed to be acting as his personal guard, protecting him from the storm that raged above and around the forest. He smiled, despite his fears and pain and reached out to a tree, tracing the rough bark with his hand. It was tall, wild and intimidating just as the rest of the landscape was, but it didn't bother him at all. It reached out to him, called to him in a manner quite unlike the other places he'd been. Even though he was separated from the country of his birth by the sea, for the first time in his life he felt as though he was home. Somehow, he just knew. This place was his kingdom.

* * *

His had been among the first families to sail for America, enticed by the shiny rumours and a promise of a better life. Unfortunately, things had not been quite that simple. Whilst things had certainly changed, they had definately not chnaged for the better. He sighed as he leaned back against a tree, and a snowflake landed on his nose. He let it stay there and hugged the lump wrapped up in his coat. It was far too big to carry easily, but there was no way he could have left it behind. They were the same.

He remembered the way things had been with perfect clarity. There had been a brand new town, a big house. There had been acres of strange and beautiful wilderness all around and he would spend hours upon hours just walking and admiring the scenery. His parents left him to it. Sometimes when he returned home there would be huge arguments, and then he would sit on the stairs and shake, clutching a piece of old, white rag he'd drawn a little face on. The arguments would continue a long time, usually hours. Then finally, Maman would climb up the stairs in tears, muttering to herself in rapid French. She never saw him there.

Dad was even worse, though that was an experience the boy was determined not to repeat. The one time he had dared to creep back downstairs, he had been met with an unusual sight. The man had been slumped on a chair, his face pressed to the table. There were bottles all around, some of them broken. The boy had tiptoed nervously up to him, unsure of what to do. He'd been scared by the noise, and felt uneasy at the sudden calm. He thought for a moment. Dad was sleeping, obviously; small snores were emanating from the back of his throat. Seized by sudden courage and a need for comfort, the boy did something he would never normally dare to do. He crept a little closer, and threw his arms around his father's neck, snuggling close. He felt a sudden movement. The man's eyes flickered open. The boy smiled, but froze. The eyes were bleary and confused, devoid of recognition. After that, came the words that made the boy's blood run cold.

"Who are you?"

The cycle would continue again and again, and yet things would never be the same after that instance. The boy learned how to block out the harsh words of his parents and became more and more withdrawn. Where before he would fight to obtain their awknowledgement and approval, now he spent more and more time alone in the forest. There at least, he could be truly happy. There was no one there to shun or whisper about him and gradually he learned how to appreciate being alone. He would return home whenever he was hungry, and usually there would be food left out for him by the servants. The other people in the town were always whispering about the 'wild child' and often they would refuse to see him at all when he passed by. That was okay by him; he could ignore them too. No one realised the extent of his loneliness, least of all the boy himself. As far as he was concerned, he had everything he could possibly need. In short, he believed himself truly happy.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set, and it cast long golden rays through the window of his bedroom. He had returned home earlier than usual, and felt the familiar dullness envelope his heart as the usual cycle began again. Except this time, something was different. He sat up straight and frowned. Mixed in with the shouting was a new sound, even louder if it was possible, and unbelievably shrill. Pulled by curiosity he knew better than to trust, the boy descended the stairs and -standing this time- took his place at the foot. This time, he realised with a jolt, there were three voices. There was his mother's distraught yet _furious_ shriek, his father's angry bellows, and the desperate pleadings of a second woman. A servant. The boy shrank back as she came into view. She was being backed into the door, clutching an oddly shaped budle tightly to her chest. She almost looked his way and for the first time, the boy thanked heavens he was so inconspicuous. By now, they were all very close. Close enough that the boy could almost make out what they were saying. Despite the urge to run, he stayed, unable to tear himself away from what was happening. The voices had dropped to whispers. From the jumble, only a few words were discernable; disgrace. Betrayal. Bastard.

The servant shrieked as from out of the blue, Maman slapped her. Dad's voice grew loud again as he tried to restrain his wife as she yelled insults and profanities. The bundle in the servant's arms shrieked even louder. It was then that the boy realised just what it was. A baby.

The argument continued for a while longer, until Maman burst into tears and ran upstairs, once again failing to even notice the boy. The servant continued her pleading, but it fell on deaf ears. Dad was oddly calm as he opened the door, but there was something else in his expression. The boy couldn't quite work out what it was. Dad looked away as he showed the servant the door, but she stared at him with an expression of complete disbelief. The man cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Miss Jones. But considering the... situation, it is no longer possible for us to keep you in our employ." After a short hesitation, the woman backed away, through the door. No longer caring for the social rules she was supposed to adhere to, she spat viciously on the ground as tears filled her eyes. "This... This is all _your_ fault." She then ran out into the darkness, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

The boy didn't want to remember. He wanted to be happy, and to forget that haunting look of dejection. He took to staying in the forest for days at a time- not that anyone noticed. The forest knew him and called to him, although its encouragement had become less comforting as of late. It urged him none too gently to move on, to find where he truly belonged. This was far from helpful; he knew he didn't belong in that house, but there was nowhere else he could go. He'd die out there. No matter how he wanted to, he didn't quite have the courage to go out alone into the wider world.

One day, after three days straight of being in the forest, he returned to find a peculiar atmosphere in town. As he wandered through, there was not a person to be seen. He stopped and frowned. Not only was this unusual at the best of times, but a circus had just come to town a week ago and by rights, it should have been bustling. He hid behind a wall and tried to work out what was happening. No luck. He looked out from behind the wall in an attempt to see something, anything, but nothing had changed. The emptiness was taunting him. By now, he was starting to become very afraid. He sprang to his feet spontaneously and ran to the middle of the street, looking round wildly, desperately for any sign of another person. He was stopped by a sudden roar. There were footprints now, growing louder and louder. Someone shouted to him, but he heard nothing. The only thing he saw, the only other ting in the world at that moment, was an enormous polar bear, teeth bared and covered in scars.

The bear was roaring, lumbering forward at full pelt, right towards him. He flinched at the sound and returned to his senses, only now seeing the large group of armed men chasing the creature. The leader of the group was dressed in strange and elaborate clothing and was holding a huge net. He had a look of pure determination on his face, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings. Absolute terror. The bear turned its head and bellowed when it saw him. It ran ever faster in an attempt to get away and the boy knew it would soon be upon him. He couldn't move, but for some reason he was unafraid. He saw the fear in the eyes of the bear and pitied it. It was beautiful. Every rise and fall of the paws was full of strength and grace. The head was sleek and round and the fur looked as fluffy and white as a cloud. He watched, fascinated as it approached and barely noticed when it stopped just in front of him, and tilted its head, appraising the boy. The ringmaster and other men stopped deadly still, oblivious to the connection between the bear and the boy. As far as they knew, any sudden movement could spell death.

The bear simply stared, and the boy saw the fear within its eyes melt away, to be replaced by warmth and wisdom. It took a final step closer and lowered its head. The boy gasped. Slowly, without quite realising what came over him, he reached out a trembling hand to stroke the fluffy nose.

From nowhere, someone screamed. The moment was broken. The boy felt himself being thrown to the ground, although he felt no pain. For a moment, he blacked out, but when he opened his eyes he was met by a horrific sight. The woman who screamed had thrown herself in front of him and had been knocked down by the bear. She was screaming again, louder than before, fighting with all her strength as the bear savagely bit down again and again. The screams turned to sobs as her strength faded and the boy cried out as he realised just what was happening. The woman was his own mother.

Someone shouted orders as the world spun out of kilter. People rushed past him, unseeing as the bear reared up, its mouth soaked in red. Maman had stopped moving now, and the boy couldn't even look at her without feeling ill. Her face was blank and empty. He couldn't even bring himself to stand. He curled up into a ball right there in the middle of the street, willing it all to go away. He almost cried in fright as something furry nudged his back. Flinching, he risked a glance back at whatever it was once he had the courage. It was a bear, just a cub, and t looked back at him with large, dark eyes. It could no more comprehend the situation than he could. It was no killer; it was an innocent child. Carefully, he patted its head and it seemed not to mind, flopping onto the floor almost comically. It was so soft. Never once did it look away from him. The mother bear roared again, and moved to rejoin her cub. A sudden shot ensured she never made it.

The bear's body shuddered briefly, then fell. The cub squeaked. It bounded over to the larger bear and hovered around, confused. The boy fought the urge to cry and tried to move nearer to the cub. Someone grabbed his collar, restraining him. The sound of a gun being cocked filled the air.

"No." The boy's mind was filled with a single desperate thought. "No. This can't happen. Not the cub." Without thinking, he scrambled to his feet and tore over to where the tiny, frightened animal was. Before anyone could register what he was doing, he scooped the cub into his arms and ran for the cover of the forest, never once looking back. He was vaguely aware of his father's voice calling his name, but ignored it, focusing entirely on the little bear, the first living thing he'd ever known that needed him. The boy saw nothing else as the voice of humanity faded into nothingness.

* * *

He decided to go north. There was no particular reason for the choice. It simply seemed the kind of place no one would think- or dare- to go. It felt like the right way. The weather there was supposed to be particularly unforgiving, with dangerous animals behind every tree. None of this troubled the boy or the bear. With every step he took, the boy could feel a change coming over him. The further north they went, the safer he felt. The cold and the wind never touched him, although he saw it rage beyond the trees. There was no food and little water, but he found himself needing it less and less of it until it seemed he didn't need any to survive at all. The bear was the same. Though it was supposed to be one of the dangerous animals, it didn't behave like one at all. It was simply cuddly, like a little toy. On a whim, the boy wrapped in up in his coat and it snuggled close. Together, they travelled for weeks. Before long, neither could imagine life without the other.

Finally, they had made it. They were there. The boy wasn't really sure where there was exactly, but it was home. Whatever it was that had called him had fallen silent and he was left alone with the bear, the wind and the trees. His trees. The bear squirmed a little, and the boy removed the coat, placing it down gently to play in the snow. As it frolicked, he finally allowed himself to rest. As he closed his eyes, the fragmented memories of what had occurred came rushing back. He hugged his knees a little tighter and tried to suppress and forget. He shut his eyes, but was met with endless nightmares; pain. Fear. He found himself being racked by huge sobs that he couldn't stop. When he tried, his breath became so ragged that he was forced to succumb to the pain, just to breathe. Never again would he see the people he had tried so much to impress. They were gone.

"I'm so sorry, Bear." Without meaning to, he began to cry. Mourning not the parents who had barely even bothered to speak to him, but the life and love he could have known, and didn't even know how to imagine. In some ways, he was full of guilt. He was alone. Alone in this bitter world of hate and death. He longed for someone to find him, speak to him, or even just notice him, treating him like a person. He wanted someone to hold him and tell him it would all be okay, and that it wasn't his fault. But naturally, nobody came. Nobody that is, except the bear. Seeking the familiar warmth of its mother, it was drawn to him and he pulled it close. It relaxed, perhaps sensing his feelings and the boy felt tears of love and gratitude well up, which he quickly brushed aside. He couldn't be sad when there was somone who needed him.

"I suppose it's just us now." He told it, working up a smile. "We can live together and protect each other. And I'll never let anything bad happen to you, not ever. Because you need me, don't you? You can see me." The bear cocked its head as if it was listening and licked his hand. The boy's smile grew. "If I have to be alone, I think I could stand it. I have to be strong now, but I think I can do it if I have you with me Second-Bear." He stroked the creature's soft head and it sighed a little. It had fallen fast asleep. The boy hugged it and buried his face in the warm fur. They curled up at the base of the tree in a hollow of snow and together, they waited until morning.

* * *

They were both woken abruptly by loud footprints crunching through the snow. For a terrifying moment, the boy thought it was the men with guns and nets, come to kill the small polar bear. He grabbed it, and hid the best he could in the nearby undergrowth, breathing hard. The bear struggled. It did not like to be held tightly, and it made this clearly known. After several minutes of attempting to stop its limbs from flailing wildly, the boy yelled out loud. The bear had bitten him. The wound had not been deep enough to draw more than a few dots of blood, but the footprints stopped suddenly. Whoever it was had heard him. He held his breath and closed his eyes, careful to allow the bear more space. He prepared himself for the worst. He could be brave. Just as long as it was quick...

What actually happened however, he had not expected in a million years. A voice called out to him in a light, friendly tone. It sounded as if the speaker had not a care in the world.

"It's okay, mon ami. You can come out now. I 'ave come to find you." For a moment, the boy was so overcome by happiness he almost did as he was asked before realising that the voice- although definitely French- couldn't possibly be his mother. It wasn't even that of a woman. He had no idea who this person was or why he wanted to find him, but he certainly wasn't stupid enough to give up his position just like that. He stayed put, heart hammering, and wished with all his heart to be left alone. Perdictably, the man did not leave. In fact, he stayed for a long time, longer than the boy had assumed anyone other than him _could_ wait, occasionally offering words of encouragement or reassurance. He didn't seem like anyone else the boy had ever met and this made him curious. It was strange that someone would know or care who he was and it made him feel as if he should know who this person was. It got to the point that he risked a glance and saw with relief that the man was alone and unarmed, strange as it was. He had long blond hair and was smiling. It was a while before the boy realised he was smiling straight at him. He ducked quickly back into the undergrowth, but it was too late. He had already been seen. The man walked over. By now, the boy was shaking like a maple leaf and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into the face of the strange man who smiled again, patiently and with understanding. "Please, don't be shy. I 'ave come to help you. You probably 'ave no idea what is going on, so I need to explain it to you. Will you trust me?" "No." Muttered the boy very quietly, but it was clear that the reply in itself was a kind of yes. Seeing no way out, the boy stood up, still holding the bear. In an attempt to put him at ease, the man began to talk again. "You 'ave quite a beautiful country, I think. Not quite the kind of place I would consider 'omely, but it is peaceful, non?" "Y- yes it is." Replied the boy, a little taken aback by this, but less afraid at least. "But how do you- why do you think this is my country? I thought only I knew that. I didn't tell anyone." It might have been the man's imagination, but it seemed the boy huffed a little, which made him look extremely adorable. He couldn't have been more than around eight or so, but he seemed so unused to human conversation. Still, he was certainly attached to that bear he carried around, so perhaps it was time to try a different tactic.

"Well, he's a sweet little thing, isn't he?" He said, crouching to the boy's level and taking a good long look at the bear. "Does he 'ave a name?" The kid seemed to brighten up a little bit at that. "This is my best friend, Second-Bear. We travel together because we were alone. Because we're together, we don't have to be alone anymore."

"Is that so?" The man sounded a little bit surprised when he said that. In truth, he was saddened. Even though he didn't know the story, he didn't think a small child like this should ever feel alone and felt it was his duty as a responsible big brother to help. Before the kid could protest, the man pulled him into a short hug. "Mon petit crêpe, you'll never be alone. You 'ave an important place in this world and there are many people you 'ave to meet, Hm?" He paused for a moment and continued. "You don't need to worry though. First, I'll introduce you to my... friend. He's a little grumpy, and not very stylish at all, but he 'as a good heart, even if he does try not to show it! he also believes in fairies and green rabbits. I'm sure they would like to meet your little bear." The boy laughed at this, now fully at ease. "He sounds silly!"

"Yes, I suppose he is, a little." The man couldn't help but laugh too at the simpistic, yet hilarious description. "But he's raising a little boy about your age and I think you could be good friends. We'll start there. I can 'elp you learn about the world, if you like." The boy nodded slowly, then more enthusiastically. Then, came a question the man had definitely not been expecting to hear. It tugged at his heart, but the boy was deadly serious, if a little shy.

"Are you going to be my new Papa?" He asked, still hugging the bear, who was beginning to look a little strange.

"Oui, Well. I'll be your big brother, if you like; I certainly hope I don't look as old as _that!" _He pulled a ridiculous, offended face. The two of them laughed together, both happy with the outcome and it wasn't until a few seconds later that they stopped suddenly, not quite believing what they'd heard. "...Was that?" The man frowned and gave the bear an odd, sideways look. The bear simply stared back as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Who are you?" It said at last, and the boy was so startled he almost dropped it. The man however, retained his composure. "Je m'appelle France." He replied smoothly. The bear however was not completely satisfied at this. "And who are you?" It asked the boy, who was now beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable at all the attention. "I- I'm Matthew Williams." He replied, somewhat nervously.

"Not anymore," Said France, as gently as he could. And to the bear he said:

"He's Canada."

**A/N:**

**Well, I originally thought this was gonna be a one shot, but I still have tons of plot ideas I didn't get to use, so I suppose I'm gonna have to turn this into an actual story. I don't think it will end up too long though. I haven't seen Hetalia in a while, so I apologise if people are out of character. I tried *shrugs.* Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, I suppose this is where you'll be staying for a little while." Said France, as they drew near to a house far to the south of Canada's country. It was large and a little intimidating, though not overly so. More than anything, it was inexplicably _loud._ To be completely honest, there was nothing blatantly alarming about it but even so, the boy hesitated. During the time he and the bear had been running, they had learned to associate houses with danger and the fear instinct made a brave attempt to overwrite the will of the boy himself. Canada had to keep reminding himself he'd been called and found, meaning that of course, there must have been a reason for it. Something important, which ensured he now found himself at this place. Whatever it was, he felt powerless to defy it. He waited on the spot and after a time, looked up to France for some idea of what was going on.

"It's not going to 'urt you. Take as much time as you need to get used to this place. Take it as slowly as you like." Said the older nation, calmly. Canada swallowed and stared once again at the strange house. He felt a little better, but was keen to hold onto the feeling of calm, knowing that of everything, France's continued presence was the thing most likely to help.

"Are you going to come with me?" He asked, whilst Second-Bear wriggled free to chase a butterfly at his feet. "To be honest, I am not really sure if that will be possible, though I suppose I could always ask." His face looked full of doubt, but in an instant he brightened and dismissed it all with a breezy wave of his hand. "Don't be worried. I'm sure it will be fine for me to stay a little while. If not, we'll simply find another solution. Pas de problème!" Canada didn't quite know what to make of this, but figured he truly wouldn't mind if he had to go back north again. There seemed no way things could go wrong if all France said was true. He watched the bear as it played and felt relieved. He dropped his guard and began to daydream; completely unaware of what was by now, careering towards him at ludicrous speed.

He yelped in shock as he was knocked to the floor and curled up into a ball, not daring to move. It was purely on reflex, but it didn't take him long to remember where he was. Ashamed, he remained there and hid his face. It was only when he heard a new voice that he looked up again and saw a small boy with a lopsided grin holding out a grubby paw. He stared at it for a moment and witnessed the smile give way slightly to a more hurt look, one perhaps of innocent confusion.

"Dude, I really didn't see you there, promise. Do you have powers or something? Because that would be awesome! England is always telling me to watch where I'm going, because I'm really really strong." He seemed to stand a little taller as he said this, and he puffed up his chest with pride. "England says that one day I'll be a world superpower. You know what that means? I'm the hero! So you have to let me help you up, because that's what heroes do." With that, he almost shoved the hand right in Canada's face. It was clear he wouldn't take no for an answer. Canada took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, feeling slightly intimidated by the sheer energy the other boy was radiating. The boy seemed completely oblivious to this however, and continued to talk in rapid, excitable tones. Canada looked over to France and saw he was watching the meeting with careful interest. Canada decided to show how brave he could be. He smiled and listened politely to the strange kid as he rambled on.

"Anyway, Welcome to my house, dude. I see you came with the frog. He's okay I guess, but I'm much cooler. My name's America. What's yours?"

Canada blinked and quickly looked away. "I... I'm Matthew Williams." He was still cautious. "And the bear is called Second-Bear. He's my friend."

America snorted. "That's not your name! You're Canada. They already told me there was going to be a new nation soon, and it has to be you. You can't be Matthew Williams, because that's a stupid name for a country. I did think you were going to live here, but I don't really know what's going on. Nobody tells me anything." He folded his arms and looked indignant. "Did anyone tell you?"

Canada shook his head. Something about America seemed unusually familiar and he felt himself warming to him fairly quickly, just as he had with France. It was true, the boy's nature was rather obnoxious, but it was in the best possible way. After all, he was friendly enough. He was keen to talk too, which was always a bonus to Canada; it had been a while since anyone else had been.

All this jargon of countries and nations was starting to become very confusing though. At first it had been overlooked out of politeness, but now there was no ignoring it. Curiosity got the better of him- he had to know what this was about. Just as Canada was about to protest that he couldn't possibly be an actual, whole country, he noticed yet another person not far away, calling out America's name as he ran over. There was a very definite hint of annoyance in his voice.

"America, how many flipping times! You're supposed to stay nearby so I can protect you. You're not supposed to- oh." He stopped when he saw France, and after a few seconds of glaring he looked down and noticed Canada too. He looked up again, first to America, then back to France, clearly trying to work out what was going on. "Hello England." Said America happily, but England payed him no attention. America sensed an opportunity and decided to take advantage of this. He turned to Canada and whispered, "I don't need protecting, obviously. Sometimes he can be really annoying. You'll see." Canada nodded enthusiastically, eager to agree. In response, America gave him an enormous grin. England stayed perfectly still, still looking at France. The look on his face seemed to say: "What the hell is this?" France took a step forward. "Bonjour, England. Surprised to see me?" It was in what was evidently supposed to be a charming tone. England seemed to mutter something under his breath, but he too took a step forward, though a little more slowly.

Both smaller nations witnessed the following event with at least some degree of confusion and of course, the bear was entirely oblivious.

"I think they're trying to eat each other." Said America. "Cool. It's must be some kind of epic battle." He sounded convinced, but Canada wasn't so sure. He was beginning to have his own suspicions as to what was going on and was struck by realisation soon enough. "Um, I don't think they're trying to eat each other, America. I think it's... _love _stuff." At this, America looked horrified."Ew!" The reaction was almost comical. "_Love_ stuff? You have to be kidding me. Even they're not lame enough for that." By some miracle, both older nations failed to hear him.

It wasn't very long until they broke apart and almost immediately, England shoved France away. One moment he seemed angry, the next, merely awkward. It was quite impossible to work out which it was supposed to be. Canada tilted his head to the side. Maybe they really had been fighting, odd as it seemed. It was true that France was also now looking a little ticked off. England crossed his arms in preparation for a lengthy tirade. He had clearly not been expecting the other nations' arrival.

"What the bloody hell do you want, France? We don't need to go through all this again. I thought you'd already gotten over that spat about America, so if you've come to stir it all up-"

"Non, England." Came the calmer reply. "You 'ave me all wrong. This isn't about America; it's about Canada. "

"Who?" England looked blank all of a sudden. A sinking feeling began in Canada's stomach, although this quickly dispelled when he realised with relief that they hadn't actually been introduced yet. France placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him forward. His words were insistent. "Canada. This is the new country from the north. 'e is... a little shy." It was a bit of an understatement, but it was important that England be cooperative. So far he had been, which probably said a lot about uncooperative England. "I thought that since America is so nearby, this would be a good place for him to start out. If he can stay here a while, it would be an opportunity to meet and talk with other countries. After all, he has much to learn if he is ever to be as 'andsome and charming as moi."

England shook his head slowly, but there was no anger in his face now. He looked a little unsure of what to say, but looked to Canada with a look of friendly understanding.

"Well, Canada, nice to meet you. I remember what America was like when he was new, so I know that... erm... damn." His voice trailed off as he searched for a way to make the little nation feel at ease. Much more trusting by now, Canada noticed and appreciated the good intentions.

"C...could I see your green rabbit, please?" He asked, before hurriedly backing off and half hiding behind France. He was suddenly afraid he'd said the wrong thing. After a moment of disbelief, England smiled fully for the first time. "Alright, if I can find him, I'll show you. I suppose you'd better come in. You too, git. I'll see if there's enough in the pantry for me to make some sc-"

"No need, really. Don't you worry." Canada had no idea why France sounded so hasty, but America laughed quietly to himself. He knew.

"Tell you what, England, as the guest, I _insist _on making dinner entirely alone. You can consider it payment for your 'ospitality." As France finished speaking, he flashed a winning smile. "Why don't you relax, put your feet up and have a nice cup of tea. You must be very tired from all that work you have to do. It would be my pleasure."

"That's... surprisingly nice of you, France." England replied, feeling now rather suspicious. "In fact, this doesn't really seem much like you at all."

"I'm sure there are some very good reasons!" Interjected America, who was feeling very excitable and was fast approaching the stage between showing off and bouncing off the walls. France shot him a warning look as the boy mouthed: "pathetic scones" To Canada, who giggled.

"England, I am hurt. Can't I ever do anything out of the goodness of my own 'eart?" Said France in a manner he suspected would dispel the suspicions. He then winked. "Predictable." Muttered England as he held the door open for the others, though it seemed to have worked. After the other nations were inside, he walked quickly to one of the nearer rooms and flopped on a chair. If France was going to be France, he may as well let him get on with it. Though it was unlikely he would ever admit it, France's cooking wasn't actually _that_ bad.

* * *

As the days passed, things seemed to fall into a kind of routine. For the most part, everyone got along rather well considering, although sometimes France looked a bit worried. It was almost as if he was conscious of overstaying his welcome. It was strange; sometimes England would attempt to make him feel better about it, and sometimes it seemed he was on the verge of outright telling him to leave. Though it all seemed to make no sense, the smaller nations remained perfectly happy for a time, blissfully unaware of the fact that both England and France, and Canada too, would eventually have to leave.

The two of them had become good friends very quickly. Though America was loud and boisterous, he seemed to enjoy having another nation his age around, despite the differences in personality. He certainly made an effort with Canada and the bear, which was very much appreciated. Oftentimes the two of them would charge around all over the place, just running nowhere in particular; America leading of course and Canada following in his wake. It made for a heartwarming sight, and certainly a promising one for the future of the continent. Every so often, France would find himself looking at them and wondering almost without cause if they were actually real brothers. It was a thought he brought up with England one night after the younger nations had at last fallen asleep. England, who had been wondering about it himself, answered in a mix of agreement and scepticism.

"I can see where you're coming from I suppose. They do look similar at least, but I can't see how that would mean anything. What are the chances? They just seem too different."

"Just because it is a rare occurrence doesn't make it an impossible one." Replied France thoughtfully, remembering the two Italies, as well as various other sibling pairs. "As for them being too different, 'ave you even met Prussia and Holy Roman Empire?"

England thought for a while, but said nothing. It was France who spoke again in a deliberate attempt to fill the silence. "Don't you think it would be a positive thing for them if it were true? I know that already, spending time with America is doing some good for Canada." The pause continued. Finally, England sighed and put his head in one hand. Something troubled him and he had no clue what to do about it. "That's all very well and good," He said, "but what about when we all have to leave? That's why I was so annoyed at you when you just turned up without warning. Whether you know it or not, we're building a world here. This is a place of security. What on earth made you think it's a good idea to build this up and take it away?"

"You are completely missing the point, mon cheri." Replied France, stubbornly refusing to respond to the antagonistic note that had entered England's voice. "The point is not to take this away from Canada, but to prepare 'im gradually for life as a nation. We'll be doing him good, I'm sure of it. Would this face lie to you?"

"Yes." Replied England, bluntly, but he appeared reasonably satisfied with this. France laughed to himself, then put an arm around England's shoulders, pulling him closer. "You don't need to worry about Canada, England. He's much stronger than he looks. Just give 'im time. You can't plan things like this."

England remained still for just a moment, then stood up suddenly. "I'm going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one?"

France answered in the affirmative, taking this to mean that England wasn't actually angry with him, though he did make sure to warn him not to burn the water. "Git." Muttered England as he left the room, but though he tried to hide his face, he was still smiling.

* * *

"Hey, Second-Bear! Come back here!" Canada yelled after the creature as it darted between the trees, though being him it was barely louder than speech level. The bear ignored him. It was having far too much fun. It meandered expertly through the forest, causing the two nations following it to trip and crash into the trees as they attempted to emulate its expert footing.

"Why do you even call it that, anyway?" Asked America, as he fought to catch his breath. A few years of being a big eater were beginning to show, though he had been running for a long time. All of a sudden, Canada came to a sudden halt. He seemed to freeze, and other than that made no acknowledgement to America having had spoken. The other nation slowed down and approached. "Dude," He said. "You alright or what?" Canada turned in surprise, having not even realised he'd spaced out. "I'm fine!" He replied brightly. "I was just trying to think about Second-Bear. I'm sure I knew, but for some reason I don't remember why."

"Weird." Said his brother, getting to his feet once more. "Suppose we'd better catch 'em though. If we're back too late, England will totally flip out." Canada nodded, and set off at once, tearing through the trees before America quite knew what was happening. "Hey, wait for me!" He yelled after him as he began to run. "You're not supposed to be faster than me!"

After much panting, a significant amount of time and a little despair on Canada's part, they finally reached the bank of a river. Second-Bear ran towards it, and jumped in little circles, clearly still enjoying the game. Suddenly, a mischievous look came across its face. "No!" Canada gasped, and the bear giggled and backed away slowly. It lowered its head to the ground in a playful gesture, then turned and made to jump for the shallow river.

"Gotcha!"

In a flash, America dived forward and caught the bear, sliding through a huge puddle of mud as he did so. The bear squeaked furiously and kicked its legs. "Let go of me! Hey, let go!"

Eventually, Canada dared to look. He was met by the sight of a very muddy, but triumphant looking America, attempting to keep hold of an equally muddy, squirming polar bear. Before the cub wriggled loose again, Canada took it from him and it relaxed, looking rather pleased with itself. He hugged it close, intent on making sure it wouldn't escape again. "Second-Bear doesn't really like other people very much." He explained to America, a little guiltily. "Just me. It's nothing personal."

"I know that, bro, don't worry." America laughed as he kicked up dirt with his shoe, sending it flying. Second-Bear looked up. "Are we going home now?" It asked. "I'm hungry." At this, America flinched. His eyes grew unnaturally wide, though he tried to sound casual. "Actually, we should probably get going. It's kinda late already, and big bro was talking about having a special dinner... some kind of announcement." He seemed worried, though Canada felt even worse. "We have to get going!" They set off together almost immediately and began to run again, arriving back home shortly after sunset.

* * *

They were both told off upon reaching home, but America made up for this humiliation by pulling faces behind the backs of the older nations, which almost got Canada in trouble by laughing. Though initially shocked by America's muddy appearance, France was forced to compromise. He told him to change and wash quickly, as the topic of discussion was of great importance. When at last they were all at the table, dinner was very burned. France seemed agitated, but at what was unclear. England seemed to sense this and resisted the urge to compare his cooking, which was probably for the best. They all ate in silence for a while, leaving Canada a little afraid that this time he and America had done something incredibly bad. Eventually, however, France stopped and showed a suddenly happier, yet slightly odd expression. It was of course, obviously forced. When he spoke, he was calm and resigned.

"There is something important England and I need to tell you both. We 'ave news."

Canada tried to think. He had no idea why someone would go from being... nervous, was it? To happy. That is until he had a sudden idea; surely it was the only explanation that would fit.

"Are you getting married?" He asked, and felt slightly miffed when everyone else seemed to find this the height of hilarity. Goodness no!" Said England, who was almost doubled over and barely able to breathe. "What could have possibly given you that idea?"

It may have been imagination, but it seemed that that was the point France stopped laughing. "Well, it's not that." He said, and continued with a raise of his eyebrow. "Unless England wants to." Upon hearing this, it seemed England almost choked. "The thing is, of course-"

"We're going away." England finished for him, bluntly. "We have important duties to do at home in our own countries. Still, you'll both be alright. You're strong and you're good kids. We'll be back as often as we can. But-" He paused and looked sideways at France- "Hopefully not at the same time." "You wound me!" France faked being hurt. To them it seemed, things were still as they always had been. The same could not be said for the others. America and Canada sat in silence, both in shocked disbelief. One apparently thrilled at the prospect of imminent freedom, the other significantly less so. Whilst America cheered, Canada found himself feeling a little sick. This couldn't be happening. He'd finally found a place to belong. How could this place be home without the people who made it so? He trembled slightly, suppressing the urge to cry. He couldn't bear it. To be apart from the people who helped and cared for him. He spaced out.

He barely heard them as they all repeatedly asked if he was alright. Still shaking, he stood up slowly and walked towards the door. Before he could leave, America ran and blocked it. "What's wrong with you? Aren't you glad? We can totally throw a million parties! It'll be fun."

England responded almost instinctively. "No parties." Knowing America, he would. Canada said nothing for a while, simply looking from face to face. It was a good minute before he found the right words. As he spoke, his voice was steady, yet almost inaudible.

"You can't just leave. I thought- I thought we were a fam wanted them to stay more than anything. He wanted to retain and cherish the feeling of home forever.

"You bloody Frog!" Yelled England and his green eyes flashed darkly as he stormed across the room. "I told you this would happen! I bloody warneily!" For a moment, he looked shocked at what he said. Then, without waiting for the reactions, he ran upstairs, leaving the others behind, stunned. America ran after him.

* * *

The arguing lasted a very long time. Every time the voices rose to a certain volume, Canada would flinch and hug Second-Bear a little closer, much to the creature's irritation. It seemed they really were intent upon leaving. Everyone would be gone, and the world turned upside down. The house would be left empty, lonely. Even America had given up pounding on the door eventually. Worst of all, Canada was certain they were arguing about him and he felt an immeasurable guilt. As he listened to the rise and fall of the voices, he found himself wondering why he couldn't simply accept it and make it all go away. Try as he might to introduce some logic to the situation, he could not bring his heart to agree with his head. He

d you! But of course you won't listen to me. You just do your own thing as ever, just to spite me. Well the kid doesn't deserve this! Goodness knows you mean well, but how could you possibly be so _stupid?_"

France was quick with the retaliation, feeling outraged that England should misinterpret and demonise his good intentions to such an extent. How could he possibly have known?

"And what would you have had me do? Leave him behind to be found and misunderstood by his people? Leave 'im to be lost and alone for years, feared even, before someone tells him who he really is? Or do you not remember that far back?"

Almost as soon as he'd finished saying it, he knew he'd hit a nerve. England looked at him in shock and the anger cooled to something much more chilling. In his eyes, France had certainly done it now. "Right. Well, if that's what you think relevant, I'm not going to stand around here just to be provoked." He went for the door. "You have _no right." _

"England." France called after him. He was still too incensed to apologise, and even if he wasn't he wouldn't. Not even then. Still, he made a last, futile attempt to prolong the dying conversation."Where are you going?"

"To the pub, since you can obviously manage this better without me." Came the reply. "And I'm going to get absolutely flipping _rat-arsed."_

The door slammed violently and he was gone. France sat in shock for a while, then sniffed. Let him throw his little tantrum; clearly England was acting this way due to some petty inferiority complex. He'd be back. France couldn't see any other reason he should take offense at something so innocuous such as the past- the past was dead and done. Of course, England didn't exactly see it that way. It had been France himself who had contributed most to said complex and the trouble was, there were far too many things that neither of them was particularly willing to admit.

* * *

It was very late indeed when England returned at last, but nobody had really been able to sleep but America, who could probably sleep through the zombie apocalypse. He had tried to be inconspicuous, but tiptoeing did little to disguise neither the sound of the door slamming a second time, nor the sound of a person bumping into furniture and swearing loudly afterwards. Canada heard it all. And though he knew quite definitively that going downstairs to apologise for his outburst (having had time to reflect) would be a truly terrible idea, he had no idea why. He searched his memories for something that would give him a clue, and found only blankness. He was frightened, certainly, but also desperate. Logically, he could see no reason not to at least try to talk things over and make everything right. But of course, it would have to be done carefully.

One step at a time, he made his way down the stairs, finding each step that little bit harder than the last. One room downstairs was lit, and he slowly approached it whilst rehearsing the words he wanted to say in his head. He hesitated. From inside he could hear a hushed conservation that was at the very least more amiable than it had been. He took a deep breath, and opened the door, slowly at first, then stepped inside. Something made him stop.

He was overcome by some feeling of trepidation which he could attribute to nothing he could place. Everything seemed ordinary enough. England and France were quietly talking, just as he had known. He walked over to them, hoping to find something out. They were completely oblivious to his presence. France was sitting up straight, holding a cup of tea in one hand. He seemed to be offering it to England, who made an attempt to take it, but _missed. _The same thing happened again, until finally he managed to get a hold on the cup. France, quite wisely, didn't allow him simply to take it and guided the cup down to the nearby table. England complained quite strongly about this. His voice was strongly slurred, and his eyes dulled. Canada was hit by realisation and a flash of emotion he barely recognised. He turned and left the room, more quickly than he had entered it. Then, he ran back up the stairs and into his room.

It was only at these sounds that the older nations realised he had been there, and they turned their heads just in time to watch him leave. Neither could really comprehend what had just happened. "England, I think maybe you should go and talk to him." Said France carefully, expecting opposition. He had a sneaking suspicion that England's current tipsy state had contributed at least partially to Canada's reaction and the bluntness he'd used before couldn't have done anything to make the kid feel better. All things said and done, It couldn't hurt to try and help them make up before England left. To his surprise, England seemed to agree. After muttering something incoherent, he lurched out of the room and up the stairs to where Canada was, leaving France sincerely hoping he had made the right decision.

* * *

"Canada? You in there, mate?" England leant on the door and almost fell inside. Canada looked up. His expression was calm, yet unreadable. He seemed tired. As England steadied himself, the younger nation sighed. "England, are you drunk?"

He felt surprised at his own daring, but it felt good. He felt a twinge of unease however, as he had no idea how England would react. Surprisingly, it was with a sensible answer.

"Yep." He admitted feely, taking a seat by the bed where Canada sat. "I am well and truly frobscottled. And put that in your diary or something, because I am the United Kingdom, and it takes a heck of a lot of rum to floor me." Despite the situation, Canada had a hard time holding back a smile.

"Why are you so happy about it? You seemed so angry before." He tried to sound jovial and almost managed it. In response, England seemed to be thinking hard. So hard in fact, that if his mind were powered by a hamster in a little wheel, said hamster would be asleep and the nation dutifully poking it with a big stick in an attempt to get it to move. "Unhappy... that's you? Oh. I remember. France and I are worried. You seem down. This may be jumping to conclusions but... I think something might be bothering you."

"Well, that's true." Replied Canada, resisting the urge to use sarcasm. England was really trying.

"I guess it all came as a shock. I hate it when you argue, and I couldn't help thinking I could have prevented it by staying quiet. I... I'm sorry. I just don't like seeing you... like this. For some reason."

He paused, hoping he'd managed to get the general gist across. England looked very confused for a moment, but got his thoughts in order in due time. "Don't you- don't you try to be quiet. You're very quiet. Don't be afraid if you... mean what you say. Or something. Try to be heard if you can. My fault. Too blunt. It's not your fault." He smiled goofily and was relieved to see Canada smile back, even if it was small and uncertain. "Also," He continued, slightly louder "I'm sorry you saw this. I was angry and sometimes I do stupid things. But it doesn't mean I don't care about you. All of you. Even France. Sometimes."

He rolled his eyes. "God, I didn't want to mess this up. But I don't want to see any of you hurt and France was stupid too. We're all stupid. That's why you have to learn to be strong, Canada, and learn how to get by on your own. That's what I- what I said. Just know that If you ever need help, there'll always be someone who'll give it to you."

"Thanks." Mumbled Canada, feeling genuinely moved, although he still had some doubts that bothered him. He decided to try and get them off his chest whilst England was being so open. "England... Why can't I remember anything that happened more than a few years ago? I know I lived far away and that I had parents, but... Even that's fading. I don't even remember my real name. I feel as though I'm losing something. What's happening to me?"

"That happens. Tell you a- tell you a secret._ Nobody_ remembers what it was like before. After a few years, bam! It's gone. Just like fairy magic." He spent a few seconds giggling about magical fairies before continuing on more seriously. "But I tell you something. You don't want to know. I don't. I've lived long enough that if I did remember, there would be nothing left anyway. They same will happen for you too. It's a blessing. It's a blessing, 'cause you can't go back. I tell you something else, to become a nation, you have to start out alone at some point. But it's a thingy that someone has to do. But we won't ever desert you. We _are_ a family."

Canada felt slightly amazed and impressed at how insightful drunk England was. It was almost as if he had a whole section of personality relating to philosophy and sentimental things that only emerged when he was intoxicated. The smaller nation felt a pain in his heart, but it wasn't sad or harmful. If anything, he felt stronger already. He allowed the words to fill him with reassurance, stood up, and spontaneously hugged England, who seemed rather surprised and almost toppled right over. Before England could respond, Canada made sure to ask the most pressing question of all.

"You must care about France a lot. So why...? Why do you argue like you hate each other? I'm going to miss you both a lot. How can we still be a family if we're far apart?" He heard his own voice waver a little bit as he spoke. He couldn't imagine them not being there.

"Because," England replied, finding the words came to him more easily the longer the conversation went on, "France and I aren't parents; and we can't pretend to be. We're like your big brothers. In short, we mess up, but we can only do our best. We make mistakes n' stuff, and sometimes things don't go the way we want. But we'll all muddle through. We'll all look after each other and care about each other when we're far apart. That's what families are. And you'll grow into a powerful country alongside America and that bear of yours. You'll meet other nations too. The world is your great big metaphorical oyster. So do things... good."

Canada closed his eyes and found he felt okay. Though he didn't have all the answers, he had the reassurance he needed. More importantly, he really did have a family. The words resonated and formed a single memory, a collection of values and a standard of happiness that would live with him always. He turned once again to England to thank him for understanding, and laughed silently. The nation had fallen fast asleep and had begun snoring at a rather alarming volume.

An hour or two passed, and France made his way up the stairs. Out of curiosity, he opened the door to Canada's room and saw them both fast asleep, England on the floor and Canada snuggled up to that bear. They looked perfectly peaceful. He carefully shut the door so as not to wake them and departed, thinking to himself how it was moments such as these that defined the term 'family'.

**A/N: Okay, I'm hoping this makes sense. Nations age differently to humans, so whilst Canada is chronologically older, America is the older nation. By now, they probably look about the same age. I know nothing about American history, so just bear with me. X3**

** I did some planning last night, and I reckon this fic is going to end up with eight chapters. Starting from the next chapter, there should be a few more familiar faces. (Well, names.) Finally, mega thanks to the people who reviewed. I'm grateful! **


	3. Chapter 3

The rain poured down upon the empty field, washing all colour to grey. As if held by some dismal script, the two nations faced off for what was to be the last time. Both had been well aware of what was at stake and indeed, they had acknowledged the inevitable: in war, someone has to lose. Still, it seemed there was no triumph here for either side. Perhaps there would be, in days to come but at that moment they fought as people, not nations. Never had they anticipated the day they would feel so separate from the will of their respective countries.

They didn't see him there. He may as well have been invisible but he saw it all, clear as anything before his eyes. Surely, this was the terrible conclusion of years of change and suffering. Canada had been unable to stay away but stood alone, separate from the fight. He was determined not to choose a side, though make no mistake about it- they had certainly tried to persuade him. In fact, he had lost count of the times England or America had called round to negotiate a long time ago. Negotiate seemed to mean two different things to the two of them. As they grew more desperate, the bribery had begun from one corner, and so too had the rash threats from the other. He tried not to take it personally. He saw how much the whole thing was tearing them apart, simply because neither side could give in. It meant that much. No, he couldn't choose. There was nothing that could be done now but attempt to show them both friendship and watch from the sidelines.

And now England had fallen to his knees in the mud.

Canada almost yelled out loud but stopped himself just in time. Everything had happened so fast, but this time England didn't get up. What was he doing? Canada closed his eyes and tried to focus. It was almost impossible not to feel angry at both sides. They had thrown away years of happiness and fond memories, for what, a chance to show how tough they could be? It was only now he was able to have a good look at them from a distance he saw the worst of them; one was impulsive and selfish, the other deluded, petty and full of fears. This made Canada feel uneasy. He recognised in England a lot of the same uncertainties he himself had felt. Whatever had happened to family?

Canada witnessed the scene come to its end, unconsciously hanging on the final sentence America spoke to his former big brother. "I remember when you were great." He looked down at the other nation for a moment, and unreadable feeling lurking in his eyes. England looked up; searching for some trace of the little America he had once known. His expression was almost pleading, but America turned away, trying to remain unaffected. He gestured for his army to retreat, and Canada thought he saw him hesitate, briefly before he walked away. England made some small noise in the back of his throat as he left, too overcome to stand. It would have been right to help him up or see if he was alright, or _anything, _but he couldn't do it. At the end of the day, it wasn't a question of who was suffering the most. Besides, he wasn't a mind reader and America had always been good at putting on a brave face. To act now could be to do something it may never be possible to be forgiven for. If he helped England, he and America could be divided forever. He closed his eyes, concentrated as hard as he could to block out everything that had happened that day and before. With difficulty, he tore himself away from the scene, walked away and kept walking until he reached home.

As both England and America faded into the distance, so too did the rain. Though the dark clouds remained, Canada felt his mind clear and was filled with assertive determination, even if only within his own mind. He would not be swayed. He would remain with England and America both, and if they were not to be all together ever again, so be it. His house would always be open to the both of them if they wanted to pay a call. Until then, he planned on staying in his country for some peace and to be alone with his own thoughts. Goodness knows he needed a break from all that had happened.

He walked up the familiar path to the house, and put the key in the lock. The door opened after a good shove and he went inside. He was greeted almost immediately by Second-Bear, who nudged his foot with its head.

"Who are you?" It asked, oblivious to everything. Sighing, Canada gave the typical response. "Oh." It paused for a moment and blinked. "I want food now."

"Alright, then." The nation quietly went to the kitchen cupboards where the dried fish was kept. He watched the creature eat with a nostalgic smile, and noticed not for the first time how empty the place seemed with just the two of them. Of course, things were slightly better when the bear had finished. It yawned and snuggled against him, sleepy after its meal. He picked it up, held it close and sat down in a chair in the living room whilst reaching for the book on the arm with his other hand. With both arms still around the now sleeping cub, he managed to read it, taking care whilst turning the pages. Still, his thoughts remained elsewhere. He felt physically exhausted, but his mind raced on, leaving the nation in an almost unbearable state of mind. He gave up eventually and placed the book down, open on the floor and sat in silence, beginning absentmindedly to stroke the bear's head. He felt its sleeping weight in his arms and a lump came to his throat that he couldn't explain; there was some kind of emotion trying to burst out of him. And yet there was no reason for it. No logical trigger, just an empty, comfortable room and nothing more. Perhaps this nothing was to be the cost of staying out of things. Certainly, it already seemed the punishment.

He was awoken by urgent knocking at the front door. He opened one eye, and groaned as he began to feel the painful cramp in his leg from sleeping sitting down. Second-Bear created a heavy and stubborn weight on his stomach and having just woken up, Canada couldn't be bothered to move it. He shifted to a more comfortable position and closed his eyes again, hoping to block out the sound. The knocking only grew louder and more persistent until finally, it hit him. Canada immediately sat up straight, knocking Second-Bear to the floor. There was only one person who he knew to knock that annoyingly. Of course; it had to be America. This almost certainly had something to do with the outcome of the war.

After easing himself carefully to his feet, Canada stumbled over to the door leaving Second-Bear behind, upside-down by the chair where it had accidentally fallen. With blurry eyes, he somehow managed to unlock the door and after making sure he was mentally prepared, opened it. Sure enough, upon doing so he was suddenly face to face with his brother, who smiled ruefully.

"Hey, Canada. Geez, you look terrible."

"Speak for yourself, America." He immediately looked away and his shoulders hunched, amazed at how he could say something so bold and in such a tone of voice. In some attempt to soften these words, he pointed to the room behind him, still avoiding eye contact. "Here, you'd better come in. I can get you a drink or something, if you like."

"Thanks, bro." America barged in past him, removed his shoes and made for a chair in the front room. After tripping over the bear, he was propelled into the nearest one, face first. After getting up, he began to laugh and Canada found himself being pulled into laughing too, realising just how much he had missed moments like this. He nodded happily in the direction of America and walked to the kitchen to make some drinks. After making his own, he poked his head round the door. "What would you like? Tea?" Instinctively, America winced. "No thanks, bro. I'm good. What's that you got there?"

"Oh this?" He looked at the cup in his hand as if he were surprised to find it there. "It's just maple syrup. Want some?"

"Dude, you're so weird!" At ease once again, America leaned back and placed his hands behind his head. "I'll just take some water if that's okay. I'm pretty sure you don't wanna see me with a sugar rush."

"Alright then." Canada returned to the kitchen, and spent a little longer than he perhaps should have getting the water. When he finally returned, he took the seat opposite his brother and took a long sip of maple syrup. The bear made a feeble attempt to clamber back onto his lap and fell back until he reached down and pulled it up. After this, he cleared his throat and inquired as to why America had decided to call, though he suspected he knew the answer. Whilst replying, America had the decency to look a little sheepish.

"Well, I guess I came to tell you what happened yesterday. You see, this war is now totally over. I didn't want to keep you in the dark or anything." "Huh." Canada tried not to let on how much he actually knew. Something told him it would be for the best. "In short, it's over, Canada. I won the whole shebang. I just wanted to let you know that we're free now. We can do whatever we want! There's nobody to tell us we can't anymore. Are you pleased?"

"Well, of course!" Canada bit his lip to keep smiling- he was beginning to feel the doubts return, though certainly the prospect of complete freedom seemed exiting, wonderful even. He just couldn't forget that pathetic, rain soaked figure he'd seen the day before, nor did he want to. England definitely deserved that much.

"Yes, of course I'm happy, America. I know you did this for freedom and that's important to you. I get that you want to help me, but... well, um... I don't really need you to fight my battles for me anymore. I'm a nation too. I can get by"

All of a sudden, America moved from his relaxed position and sat forward, his face suddenly serious and almost worried. "What are you talking about Canada? I've always looked out for you. It's what heroes are supposed to do!"

"I do know that. But I... I keep thinking about England." It came out in a rush and he allowed it to. Better to just get it out. "Is he going to be alright? He seemed... crushed."

"So you've seen him then, huh." America didn't seem too happy at this revelation, but he must have decided it wasn't too big a problem as he continued calmly. "I know he's sad, but what else could I do? I needed to break away. I'm not a little kid anymore and he knows it. You'd better understand dude, but I can't talk to him until he accepts that. It might sound harsh, but his feelings are no longer my concern." Canada listened and took it all in, but said nothing in reply. By now, America was definitely beginning to look apprehensive though he did his best to hide it. With a friendly grin, he held out his hand.

"Bro, I just need your word. Just say you'll work with me and we'll move forward together. We can forget our past, and in a few years we'll be the most powerful countries in the world! What do you say?" Canada stared at the hand, something still restraining him. His brother was supposed to know and understand him, so why did it seem as though he was asking him to choose again? He'd told him time and time before. It wasn't going to happen.

"America, you know I can't just forget it all just like that. There were good times too. I don't understand why you'd give it all up without a second thought. I made a promise my house would always be open to both you and England, and I don't know what you expect me to say."

"What I expect you to say? _Yes_ might be a start! Don't tell me the old limey is still controlling you. Don't you see? There can be no compromises. You have to break away. Canada, I'm gonna have to go right out and say it. Who's it going to be?"

Canada's mouth fell open. He actually had the audacity to spell it out. No dancing around the subject and no softening the blow. He stared at America for a while, receiving a righteous, defiant look in return. The hand had dropped but it lay on the arm of his chair, ready. Canada slowly shook his head, not quite understanding where his sudden strength was coming from, but responded regardless.

"I won't choose. I love you both, and England needs someone to help him. Can't you see what you're doing?" He pleaded, and was embarrassed to feel his voice start to crack. "By this... You're tearing us all apart!"

America's defiance changed to disbelief. It was a rare event indeed for Canada to stand up to him like this and quite frankly, it took him by surprise. Couldn't his brother see that this was hurting him too? He wanted nothing more than for this to be easy. But he was being strong. He wanted only the best for both of them, so why wouldn't he accept it?

"Now, you just listen to me. I am not going to move from this seat until you make your choice and if you have any sense at all, you won't choose the idiot whose been treating us like utter crap for years. I know you know I'm right. You've always listened to me. We've always been a team. So make your choice already!"

By now he was almost shouting. Canada grew frightened, and flustered, he dropped the cup sending maple syrup pooling all over the carpet. Second-Bear tumbled down from his lap and began to lick it up though Canada barely noticed. All he saw was the last chance at civility between them all slipping further and further away with each second that passed.

"America, you know he's not actually that bad." His voice shook and he found himself at a loss for what else to say. America narrowed his eyes, and it was then Canada truly realised there was no persuading him. He saw the truth and bowed his head.

"America, you're right." He said softly, and for a moment, America looked surprised. "I am?"

"Yes." Came the reply, and once again, Canada looked up. But there was ice in his look. "It's true, I've always followed you. We were a team. America and Canada. The continent of America. America and the afterthought. We've always done things your way. Which leads me to ask-" He tilted his head to the side but never once did he look away. "What makes you think you're so different to England anyway?"

"Oh you can cut that out for a start!" There was genuine anger and hurt in his voice now, just from the simple comparison. "The difference between me and him is that I care about you in a way nobody else ever has. We're brothers. We're one continent. Seriously, the choice is yours, Canada. Me-" he paused and then his voice took on a hint of venom. "Or him?" Canada paused, allowing himself a moment to take in the sight of his brother, still sitting opposite. He cared about him with all his heart and didn't want to fight with him. Still, he had surely brought this on himself. Canada knew what he had to say. He found the words surprisingly easily. Quite simply it was; "I choose England."

"What?" America looked utterly dumbfounded. He clearly couldn't believe what he was hearing, so Canada reiterated. America watched his brother as he spoke, wondering how he could throw away their bond with a simple sentence. He'd expected more of a fight, at least. And by fight, he was thinking tears, or some other kind of 'scene'. Most of all, he had not expected this.

"What did you say?"

"America, I won't repeat myself a second time. I... I've made my choice. That's what you wanted, isn't it? I can't join you and France if it means England is alone. Are you even thinking of what that would do to him? He doesn't deserve this, even if he has done things wrong. Nobody deserves this!"

"I can't believe you would be so stupid!" America yelled, overcome and completely frustrated. "This is what he wants. He's making you feel bad so you'll stay under his rule! You have to come to your senses. Wake up, Canada. See what's right in front of you, or I swear. I'll get the army and... and attack you again."

"Get out." Canada stood up, grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. For the first time, America felt just how strong his brother was. It was funny how he'd never noticed before. Even as he was shown the door he still struggled to work out what had gone wrong. Why has Canada chosen England? The two of them had always been so close it seemed completely unthinkable. He found himself wondering just what would happen from there. Canada was wondering the same thing. When they reached the end of the hall he didn't push America out the door. He didn't hold it open wide in a triumphant manner. He unlocked it carefully and allowed America to make his own exit; a more subdued one than he usually did. The nation looked back before he went. His pained look of confusion became a final smile, a show of love which even then was not vanquished. He knew somehow the connection would endure in some form. The smile was returned in kind before the door quietly clicked shut, signalling the finality of the decision. For a long time afterward, Canada stood simply staring at it, his feelings walking the line between horror and relief. He shook his head slowly. "What have I done?"

He had to get away. The house was no longer a place he could relax in peace. Not with the memories of that conversation haunting him. In a fit of madness he took a seat and began planning a trip. It would be a vacation of sorts. An opportunity to get away, relax and meet other nations; he would need to if he was to make it alone. Almost as soon as he'd thought of it, it was decided. Nobody would miss him for a few months. He already knew first hand. When at last daylight was well established, he went to the coast to inquire about a boat.

Europe wasn't much like Canada had expected. For a start, it was warmer. He hadn't really known that a place outside a building could be warm, but as surprises went it was one of the better ones. He wandered from place to place with interest, appreciating whatever it was that meant he could do so in almost no time at all. The journey there had also been reasonably quick, though he was still grateful to be on dry land. The boat had been cramped and leaky, which caused him to feel amazed that humans could endure such journeys for even longer than he had. At least it had been easy enough to slip away unnoticed when the other passengers had to present their papers. After that, there had only been the matter of finding somewhere to recover and the sightseeing had begun.

He didn't stay in France for long. For a start, it seemed probable that France himself would be there and Canada wasn't too keen on the idea of running into him at that precise moment- France had made it quite clear he was on America's side, and had also tried to talk him round. Canada felt he could do without any more of that. From France, he went east, finding himself in a rather pleasant seeming, landlocked country before too long. On a whim, he decided to find this country's personification and introduce himself. After all, he told himself, it couldn't hurt as long as he was friendly.

As if being led by instinct, he found himself drawn to a house which seemed to radiating the most beautiful music. He could only assume this was the place; human music simply didn't have a reach of such distance. Upon reaching the front door, he began to have doubts. The nation who lived there must surely be powerful and skilled and he wondered for a moment if it would be a good idea to start somewhere else. As he was about to turn away, the bear started to wake from the hibernation it had been in, and Canada was certain it would be absolutely starving. Armed with a good excuse to be calling, he put on a brave face and walked up again to the door. He summoned up his courage, and knocked.

The music stopped with sudden crashing discordance. All of a sudden, there was a flurry of noise inside the house and in no time at all Canada heard the sound of someone running towards the door. He backed away a little. From inside came a strange, high pitched sound, which sounded like "Vee~!" Soon enough, the door was thrown open.

"Holy Rome, you're back!" Canada was met by a little girl in a green dress. Her eyes were closed, so it was a good while before she realised her mistake. She seemed a little disappointed at the revelation, but cheered up again almost immediately.

"Hey, I haven't seen you before. That must mean you're a new friend! Have you come to see Mr Austria? Or Miss Hungary, maybe?"

"Who is it, Italy?" A young woman appeared from down the corridor behind and seemed taken aback. "Oh. We weren't expecting anyone. Are you a nation?" Canada nodded in the affirmative and the woman smiled warmly. "Well you must have come a long way. You look terrified! How adorable. Anyway, Welcome...?"

"Uh, hello, I'm Canada. I came to Europe in the hope of meeting some other nations." He shifted his feet and tried not to appear inconspicuous. Fortunately, it seemed to work. At the very least, both girls didn't spontaneously forget his existence. It seemed the older of the two was about to reply when yet another person appeared, seemingly drawn by the conversation. Admittedly it was an unusual situation.

"Who is it, Hungary?" Asked the man. "... Is this a new nation? I can't say I've seen him before."

"Yes, I think so. He's Canada apparently, though I'm not sure where that is." Hungary said, cheerfully enough. "... Hello." Said Canada, as brightly as he could manage. He was beginning to find the situation rather intimidating, being unused to conversing with strangers. The third nation seemed to possess an aura of quiet authority so it came as a bit of a surprise when he gestured for Canada to feel free to come inside. "If you need a place to stay for a day or two I suppose it may as well be here. We don't have guests often, but it shouldn't be a problem if you stay out of the way."

"I can do that!" Canada gratefully accepted the offer and went inside, feeling rather proud of himself and above all relieved that the countries of Europe were so hospitable. So far things were going remarkably well.

After an evening spent 'staying out of the way,' talking occasionally with the European nations and listening to Austria play the piano, Canada had eventually been shown to a room. He decided to have an early night- he didn't want to be any trouble, though something told him they barely even noticed he was there. He hoped for once it was true. As he tried to get to sleep he was kept awake by a kind of happy, anxious glow. He turned to the side and hugged the bear, assuring himself that rest was almost as good as sleeping. In the dazed intermediate zone between waking and dreaming, the hours and minutes sped by quickly.

It was a little after midnight that he was awakened by a series of loud thumps from somewhere below. He opened his eyes and realised immediately that the space the bear had been in was now cold and empty. He forced himself awake and after a few minutes he grew full of dread. Where could it possibly have gotten to? As quietly as he could, he got out of bed and crept along the hall. There in the middle of it he stopped and listened out for any further sound and detected a sort of scuffling downstairs. He was alarmed; any moment the bear could break something or wake their hosts. Possibly even both, knowing his luck. Careful to avoid making a noise himself he tiptoed as fast as he could down the stairs, causing one to creak loudly as he passed it. He flinched, but there was not a sound from above.

After a quick glance into various rooms, his eyes fell on the door to the kitchen, which alone had been left ajar. Fearing the worst, he opened it and was presented with the sight of Second-Bear rummaging through the cupboards. It looked up slightly guiltily, and stepped back, its front half almost completely covered in what appeared to be some kind of soup. Something must have tipped over in the cupboard, because the same soup began pouring onto the floor at a rather alarming rate.

"What are you doing?" Canada hissed. He was aghast. The bear sat down meekly. "I was hungry. These people give us food."

"Yes," Replied Canada hesitantly, "But only at mealtimes! We're guests, Second-Bear. You can't just take their food!" "Why not?" Second-Bear stood up and walked over, hitting the cupboard shut with a loud 'clack!' as it passed. As it began to pick up its pace, it slipped in the spilled soup and crashed into Canada, sending the two of them flying backwards into a large pile of pots left on the side. There was a creak of floorboards upstairs. Canada grabbed the bear and was deadly still. What excuse could he possibly come up with that didn't sound utterly pathetic?

Before long, the sound of footprints thundering down the stairs could be heard. He waited with bated breath; any thought of hiding was dismissed as an impracticality. He knew they were drawing nearer, but it still came as a shock when the door was flung open. "...I'm sorry about the noise and mess." He began. " I can clean it up-"

"Who on earth are you?" It was a question that had been asked many times before, but this time it came as a genuine surprise. Austria sounded as though he really meant it, despite the fact Canada had introduced himself mere hours ago. He also sounded angry, which Canada could understand more easily. He attempted to apologise some more but was cut off again by Austria.

"Evidently we have an intruder. Hungary, you know what to do. Italy, you stay back, okay?"

"But Mr Austria," Said Italy, "Doesn't he look a little bit familiar? I don't understand." Both older nations ignored her, and she jumped back as Hungary grabbed and began to wield a large frying pan. Canada took one look at it and went for the door, scooping the bear up in one swift movement. "Where are we going?" It asked, but Canada was too busy trying to protest his innocence to answer. In the chaos, nobody heard him. Somehow, he managed to make it out in one piece and continued running west, not daring to stop. The other three nations watched him go, and in no time at all they barely remembered what had happened. They had been groggy anyway and that had contributed. As they went back inside, Austria noticed the kitchen door ajar and opened it, taking in the state of it with substantial horror.

"Italy! We discussed this before. If you want some extra food, you _ask_ for it. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Mr Austria." Replied Italy, nervously. He looked to the side and thought for a moment before asking in a brighter tone, "Ve~! May I have some extra food please?"

"... No."

Canada ran until dusk, taking breaks when he felt tired, but too shaken to stop for long. When it finally began to turn dark he found himself at a sheltered beach which seemed as good a place to stop as any. He was too tired to run any further and as he slowed, he looked around properly for the first time, observing the majesty of the scenery. Truly, it was beautiful, almost unreal. He would have stood and gawped for a while, but before long the bear became restless. He put it down on the sand and sat on a rock beneath the cliff, watching the waves edge in and out. It occurred to him that such beauty had to be present in every country. No matter where a person went, the basic components were always the same, with little differences to make each place unique. It gave a feeling of unity to the world and a of feeling of belonging. As the stars began to twinkle into view, the sea took on a magical, silvery quality. Canada became so lost in the moment he didn't even notice that he was no longer alone. A sudden voice made him jump.

"America! ¡Hola! I heard the revolution went well. What are you doing here in my country, anyway?"

"Um..." Canada had no idea who the speaker was, but he seemed to have him confused with his brother. He was about to correct him when the man came into view from behind the cliff and stopped, confused. Canada stood up, suddenly apprehensive. It seemed whoever it was had realised his mistake.

"You're not- you're not America!" A change seemed to come over him. He'd seemed friendly enough, but now he most decidedly wasn't. It had happened in an instant, but now he was nothing short of frightening. He smiled darkly, and took a step forward. Canada backed away as subtly as he could, but it seemed this person was not going to go away any time soon.

"You must be the other one I've heard about. Well let me tell you something. England and I do not really see eye to eye. So, what is it? Are you after territories? Or are you looking for your own fight in order to prove yourself as a nation?"

"Neither! I'm just on a break. I came to get acquainted with Europe. I don't want a fight or anything like that."

The other nation continued advancing, by now looking very menacing indeed as the darkness cloaked him. After enduring for so long, Canada turned around and ran. The sound of quick footsteps on the sand told him the other nation was in pursuit. He felt his heart pounding and wondered just how much more he could run that day. It must already have been hundreds of miles and he was tiring. As the other nation drew fearfully close, there was a sudden sound. Another voice that could have been either very good or very bad news.

"Hey Spain! What's going on? Didn't I tell you that if you get into a war or something you're supposed to let me know?" Spain turned around all of a sudden to see a white-haired nation approaching, grinning wickedly. However, when he got close enough to see who was being chased he looked very confused indeed. "The hell's going on? That's not America."

"I know that." Replied Spain, now back to normal and sounding a little bit shaken. The second nation moved closer. Canada found himself feeling a little surprised that they both could tell, and could only assume they knew America quite well. He wondered, now that they were distracting each other, if he could make a run for it.

"Did you think you were being invaded or something? Mein gott, that's hilarious. Just look at him. He's about as threatening as a sack of wet kittens. Hah. Spain's afraid of kittens!" The nation laughed a little too much at his own joke, if it could even be considered one. Canada felt a little annoyed at this, but was still too wary to show it. Instead he settled for muttering "I'm still here, you know," under his breath.

The nation who had chased him- Spain- ignored his friend and smiled guiltily as he approached Canada again, more carefully this time. Canada stood his ground. He was still suspicious, but willing to give them both the benefit of the doubt. "Here." Spain held out a hand. "I apologise for scaring you, although you should probably think first before showing up spontaneously in someone's country. You could get hurt. This does seem to happen to me sometimes, unfortunately. I've tried to deal with it."

"That's okay. Thank you." Canada shook the hand, now extremely relieved. Fortunately he had learned long ago that most nations could be scary when they had to be, and could only assume Spain often did, or had. At least he was friendly again now, though naturally Canada made a mental note to be careful around him.

"Let's do some trading in the future or something, si?" Said Spain in what was evidently supposed to be a light, casual tone of voice. "Alright then. Eh... nice to meet you." Canada wasn't really sure how best to respond, but decided if Spain wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened, it would be a good idea to agree and have it all be done with. After a slightly awkward pause, Spain nodded briefly and turned away to walk back the way he had come.

"I had better continue my walk then. I suppose I'll see you around, whoever you are." As he disappeared, Canada began to feel that perhaps America had the right idea about the whole 'mind your own business' thing. After a few seconds, he started to leave too, but something stopped him. Someone was still talking.

"He's not usually like that you know- he's a pretty cool guy. Not quite at the level of awesome, but getting there." Canada stopped in his tracks as the nation spoke. "Still, if you think broody hen is scary, you should see the chick."

"What?" Canada turned around. After all that the last thing he expected (or wanted) was for this obnoxious nation to remember his existence. It was just his luck. When he wanted people to remember him they didn't and likewise, it would seem. As soon as he spoke, he wanted to kick himself for replying, coming to some vague realisation he may have been talking to himself. If he had been talking to himself, he'd probably just given away what may have been his last chance to get away quickly. Now it seemed he would have no choice but to talk to him. He racked his brains for something further to say that wouldn't sound stupid.

"Thank you for helping me out back there." It sounded mechanical and insincere, possibly because it was. The other nation just shrugged. "I might fight a lot, but I'm awesome, not a monster. Spain's not either, but whatever." He paused, and after a moment's thoughtful consideration continued. "You genuinely did look like a sack of wet kittens there. It was hilarious! You should really be more careful."

Canada made some sort of protest under his breath about how he objected to that particular comparison, but cut it short when he realised the nation was still listening. He tried to apologise somehow, but the nation seemed to find it confusing. In any case, he didn't really seem to mind too much, responding with a nonchalant shrug.

"Well anyway, if it's all the same to you, kittens can sometimes be frightening. Depending on your species."

From up above a small yellow bird fluttered down and landed on his head. "Awesome Prussia!" Declared the nation and it took Canada a little while to realise the nation was introducing himself and not making some random statement. "An awesome honour you can only ever dream of." He continued. "And you are?"

Canada didn't register the question. He was too busy trying to work out what Prussia's actual title was so he could address him without offending him. "I suppose it could be something like 'The Awesome Kingdom of Prussia'" He said quietly to himself "if 'awesome' is used to mean 'awe-inspiring'... That could be it."

"You think I'm awe-inspiring, little nation?" Prussia seemed to be enjoying this. Canada had continued to assume he wouldn't be heard, so naturally became a little flustered when this was proven false. "I'm Canada!" Was all he could think so say, and it was almost before he finished saying it he realised how ridiculous it sounded. He didn't have much time to think on this however, before Prussia grinned and started to walk as the little bird took flight and flapped round Canada's head, forcing him to follow.

"What's going on?" He asked, not at ease once again. "Because I'm a really nice person, I've decided to help you out. Just come with me. You look like you need to crash." Canada was reluctant to follow, but had no choice. At least the nation seemed to mean well, although it was hard to be sure. In any case, Canada intended to keep suspicion from his mind and hope for the best. It was all he could really do. In any case, if the help was genuine it would be much appreciated. As he thought this, the two of them with the bird in tow trudged back along the beach and in the direction of a nearby town.

**A/N I guess the first part of this chapter was kind of inevitable, huh.**

**Okay, first of all, thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited. It really does mean a lot to me. I'm just so happy people like this fanfiction. Just- thanks so much. Sorry this chapter took so long, but I had to do a ton of research and even now I'm not sure everything's as accurate as it should be. The hardest part is probably writing characters I know next to nothing about. Heh.**

**Oh, and I made a mistake in the previous chapter when I referred to Germany, who doesn't actually exist yet at this point. I went back and changed it to Holy Rome, so hopefully I'll be able to avoid as many plot holes as I can, if that even makes sense. Once again, thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

"...And then she picked up a frying pan, and I... Well, I guess I just ran for it." Said Canada thoughtfully after having described the rest of his 'holiday'. The two nations had somehow ended up in a small pub, which he had tried not to question too much. It was dark, noisy and cramped- certainly not the kind of place he felt at ease- but it was a pleasant change to be listened to, even if he wasn't yet consciously aware of it. He laughed quietly to himself before continuing. "It's funny. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, but everywhere I go I either get ignored or chased. Usually both..." He trailed off and looked to the ground, dreading the silence that he suspected would come. He was unused to anecdotes and particularly unused to ending them. As it stood however, he needn't have worried.

"HAH. That sounds awesome. What wouldn't I have given to see the look on the stupid aristocrat's face." Prussia cackled, creating that strange sound once again. Despite all that had happened Canada couldn't help but respond with careful uncertainty. Perhaps it was the taunting, almost mean tone of the voice. He couldn't help but feel this was slightly unwarranted as it wasn't really anyone's fault.

"Calling him stupid might be a bit harsh." He ventured, taking a gamble that 'the aristocrat' was Austria, the one who seemed to be in charge. "He did let me stay for a while. Sure, he was... distant, but I'm sure that's just him. It's not a mistake people make deliberately, after all. Even France has forgotten me once or twice."

"Really, Cadmium? Really?" The other nation replied in such a manner as to imply with sure confidence he knew better. Still, the only thing that could be said for sure was that he knew _Austria _better. In actual fact, he just found Canada's nonchalance odd and was simply trying for some kind of reaction other than calm or nervousness.

"It's Canada." It seemed he succeeded to some degree. Canada seemed to speak now through gritted teeth. "And I can't stand when people do that word name word thing. You know what I mean anyway." Pausing for a moment, he looked around for the first time since arriving. "Speaking of stupid questions, how did you manage to find a German pub in the middle of Spain anyway?"

"Ah, details, details." Prussia waved the question away with a smirk. The two of them had been talking in the place for a little less than half an hour and yet it seemed to be something he'd only just realised .To be honest, Prussia was finding this all rather interesting. This Canada was completely different from the other nations he knew and he couldn't work out why he was so quiet. He probably wouldn't say boo to a goose, but nations weren't supposed to be introverts. As far as he knew, they had to be strong; to fight or negotiate at the drop of a hat, lest the unthinkable happen. It only seemed to intrigue him more and more as the conversation wore on, especially now that Canada was having his own say. Canada, of course, was also formulating his own opinion of Prussia.

He seemed from the start the kind of person who didn't take things too seriously. This certainly seemed to show in his own topics of conversation, most of which involved how awesome he was, peppered with the occasional anecdote. He had also mentioned early on some recent war and how it had led him to make some new allies, like Spain, France and England. He stopped upon that thought, and considered it. Canada just sat there as he stared, wondering if he'd done something wrong until Prussia finally realised. Suddenly, a bunch of loose ends began to add up and he spoke his thoughts aloud. Of course, Canada had to be the kid England and France raised. Not America, the other one. What's his name. The other nation seemed to grimace before replying which Prussia took for suppressed annoyance. He took the opportunity to explain to the other what a 'wind up' was and they talked on, drifting from this to that, to nothing in particular. All the while, the little bird peeped softly, perched in Prussia's hair.

When the conversation had eventually lulled, a thoughtful look came over Prussia's face. Briefly, Canada wondered if he should be worried, but before he could act, he had stood up and walked away. Canada was left alone but for the bear, slightly awkward and definitely unsure as to what he was supposed to do. Was he going to come back? He wasn't sure, but had a sinking suspicion the answer would be no. It felt like a shame, and yet- he still wanted to wait a little, just in case. It hadn't been long at all before he was fretting about just how long he ought to wait before compromising too much dignity. He bit his lip and stared down at the table, feeling suddenly awfully out of place. Funny, how that hadn't been the case when Prussia was there. He risked a glance up, and sighed. It had been nice to talk to someone new, but if he'd been too boring or quiet he surely only had himself to blame. Still, people usually said goodbye when they were leaving, didn't they?

"Hey. What's wrong with you? Couldn't bear to be outside my awesome presence?" Canada jumped at the sudden sound of his voice but felt rather glad upon seeing Prussia had returned. Naturally, he did his best to ignore the shameless boasting, but still found himself scrambling awkwardly for the right thing to say.

"You're back." He could have kicked himself.

"Ja, the awesome me is back. I brought you something. Here." He shoved a mug of beer in Canada's face, and the nation found himself leaning back in response to its proximity. He eyed it suspiciously.

"You really didn't have to. I'm alright- you have two."

"I know. That's what makes me so great. Go on, take it! I'm already having two." Prussia replied, and Canada was able to glance briefly past the mug to see two more clutched precariously by the handle in his other hand. Some of the beer spilled on the ground and he swore loudly. "Just take it!"

Without thinking, Canada did so and Prussia responded with a grin. "See? Now you have to drink up. Go on, they call it liquid bread. It's good for you!" He placed his own mugs down on the table and took a more secure grip on one of them, downing it quickly whilst making quiet, happy noises under his breath. Canada simply stared at his own beer as if it were about to jump up and bite him. When Prussia had finished, he once again began goading Canada to try it. There really was no way out of this. He caved. Wincing, he lifted the mug with the intention of finishing it as quickly as he could.

It was abysmal. It tasted strong; of something chemical people were not meant to drink. It made him want to gag, but he persevered until there was none left, determined to prove something- goodness knows what- to the other nation. Somehow, he found himself wanting to be on good terms.

The taste only grew worse after he'd finished and he felt his mouth begin to burn. Prussia however, seemed to find it all hilarious. He had been laughing loudly for a few seconds, drawing a glare from the other nation. Noticing this, Prussia smirked.

"That was quick. If you like it so much, I'll get you another one! I'm nice like that." He made a show of standing up. At this, Canada dropped all show of politeness, forgot his yearn for acceptance and protested with avidity. Prussia continued for a few seconds more but gave in, in the end.

"Gott, you're adorable. I didn't actually think you would drink it though I just wanted to see your reaction. You just seem so quiet I figured it would be fun to mess with you."

"... Why are you doing this?" Something about Canada seemed resigned. Perhaps stony or even hurt.

"What are you talking about?" Prussia's grin froze on his face and he prepared himself for whatever was coming.

"Why do this? I get that you were being nice, but don't you have friends you can 'mess with?'"

"Ja, of course. I have lots of friends." The smile finally faltered, but he still sounded as self assured as ever. "Don't question what I do. I do what I want, when I want to. It's one of the main rules of being awesome." He paused expectantly, but when Canada didn't answer, he persevered. "For example, see here." He gestured to the little bird on his head, which shook its wings in recognition of the attention. "This is Bird. He goes everywhere I go and is pretty much my best friend. Also, he's here right now which basically renders your point moot. I also have England, Spain, France, Hungary-" He stopped suddenly and frowned. He hadn't meant to remember that.

"You named your bird 'Bird?'" Asked Canada on impulse before this registered. Prussia seemed to take this as a welcome distraction and was once again smug and insufferable. "Says the guy who has a bear called Second-Bear."

"...Point taken." Canada snuck a look under the table where Second-Bear was snoozing quite happily. He smiled to himself at the sight. The bear was tired from having followed them there and he'd felt bad at first for having forgotten it. Still, it looked so peaceful he couldn't feel bad for long. Suddenly, without knowing why he was hit by a sudden curiosity. When he sat up again, he decided to ask. "So you're friends with Spain. Is that why you were there, visiting?"

"Yeah, well kind of. He didn't actually know I was there at that point, which must have been a pretty awesome surprise for him."

"So you didn't tell him you were there? I don't understand." Canada asked brightly. "Why wouldn't you say anything? He was probably happy to see you."

"Ja, of course. Who wouldn't be? Just because we haven't seen each other since the war, or..." He swallowed and tried to maintain his nonchalance but felt it slip with every sentence. In frustration he banged his fist on the table, sending the mugs flying and Second-Bear yelping in shock.

"Would you just drop it?" Suddenly, he was yelling, and neither nation, nor animal nor indeed, curious human could discern why. "It's none of your business anyway, who my friends are. I don't even need friends anyway. I do whatever I damn well like and I don't care about what anyone says about me. Hell, I don't even need Hungary. I am _awesome_."

By now everyone had stopped what they were doing to witness this unexpected outburst. Truth be told, Prussia hadn't expected it either. This was not what he did. He usually carried on, or calmed down, in extreme cases. But now... All of those years had come bursting out for reasons even he couldn't explain. Yet still, he felt no regrets He felt beautifully calm, more at peace than he had in a long while. But his heart sank when he looked back at Canada who had shrunk back in his chair and was deliberately trying to be inconspicuous. He knew in that instant he had disregarded the fact Canada wasn't as outspoken as other nations and didn't quite know how to feel. A significant part of him wanted to honour what Canada seemingly wanted and leave him in peace. Shit, he'd messed up. He turned his back and prepared to head for the door, pretending he couldn't see. He held his head high and would have gone, had something not caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

"I would be your friend, if you wanted."

He turned and looked back across at Canada who smiled nervously. Hopefully. Had he really heard that right? People never just offered up friendship as if it were the simplest thing. You had to fight for it; fight to maintain it. And of course, in every war, someone has to lose. It was always a matter of convenience and power in the end, no matter what the truth was. That had always been his experience, and yet... He stood there, numbly. His face betrayed no sign of acceptance, which caused Canada a little worry. Had he misspoken? He silently wondered for a while until Prussia spoke again, completely abruptly.

"I was looking for my big brother."

"Huh?" Canada leaned forward a little, still cautious, but interested. Prussia took his time before continuing, and it seemed to Canada the topic caused him some pain. It had to be important. He would have tried to reassure him it was okay, that he didn't have to say it, but he seemed determined to finish what he meant to explain. As it was, he let it be.

"We were together when we were really small, but we got separated. He went to live with Austria and that lot. I don't know, but I heard he did okay." Canada could only listen. He had no idea what he would have done without America. It was unthinkable.

"It's probably shitty of me, but I never tried to find him. I guess I figured he had it made and I'd just be some scrappy little kid who'd mess things up for him. Hey, what's changed? I missed him though, I guess." His eyes glazed over, caught in the memories.

"About 200 years ago or whatever, he just vanished. I felt nothing at the time, but-"

He made some sort of wild gesture with his hands and took a deep breath. A strange expression came over his face. He felt ridiculous talking about this with a stranger, but supposed Canada wouldn't say anything. Probably wouldn't be able to, he thought to himself, rather meanly. Every word he said sounded stupid, but screw it. He continued only because of the relief caused by unloading the burden. He figured he may as well enjoy it before he regretted it.

"Well. As the time went on, I realised that maybe I hadn't made the most awesome choice. Even someone awesome like me is bound to slip up once in a while. So, I tried to find him. And that's what I'm doing. I get itchy feet and then I just... go."

"But it's been so long. What do you think- Do you know what... happens?" The reply was quiet and sympathetic. Canada didn't see much hope for a reunion, touching as the story was but didn't want to say anything to hurt or offend.

"You mean, do I think he's dead?" Prussia by contrast, was blunt. "Maybe. Whatever. It can happen if a nation is ruthlessly dissolved. If it's slow, we just get old instead- Well, shit."

"What is it?" Canada was alarmed by this sudden break in conversation, and patted the bear under the table as bird in Prussia's hair began to cheep. Prussia shook his head. "I never realised until now that he'll still be older than me. I always thought of him as this little kid. ... Well." With determination, he summoned all his confidence. "Even if that's the case, I still won't stop until I find him. There'll be some kind of sign and when I do, everyone will know I'm the most awesome brother in the world. Everyone will want to ally with the awesome me."

"Well, I really hope you're successful anyway." Canada smiled warmly and Prussia found it impossible not to feel better at the sight. "I know if I was in your position I'd do the same. America can be stubborn and annoying, but he'll always be family. I think he knows that."

"Yeah, well." Prussia looked quickly to the side then back again before beginning to examine the inside of the now empty beer mug before him. He was vaguely aware of how empty the place had become. How long had they been there? "I hope next time you go on holiday you have a better time of it. Some idiot should have told you about the state of things."

"I think some idiot just did." Canada laughed and moved as Prussia did, noticing the lateness. He felt more positive now about the vacation, and felt a pang at the thought it would soon be over. The thought of all the work that would be piling up back in his country made him unsure about when he would next be able to get away, but at least there would always be time to reflect. He couldn't wait to be alone once again with his own thoughts. Now all he needed to do would be to find some inn to stay in for the night. Finally, he turned once more to Prussia as they both headed for the door.

"It's been nice talking to you. But I sort of wish there was a way I could pay you back for your help."

Prussia grinned wickedly. "Well, now that you mention it, I admit. I do have an ulterior motive." He let Canada fluster for a second or two before putting him out of his misery. "Ach, don't look at me like that. It's an awesome motive, not a _France _motive. Pancakes. Next time we meet, I want some, agreed?"

"Eh, sure, but how could that have been your motive? You didn't even get who I was until we were talking." The other nation merely continued to head for the door, beaming as he called back. "Rules of awesome, Canada. Remember that."

"Alright!" Canada followed until all of a sudden, Prussia turned sharply back. He jumped backwards as the other nation spoke. "Oh, and Canada, You don't tell anyone about what I said. If you do, I will personally invade all your trees and sell their delicious syrup to England. Understand?"

It was about a week after Canada had returned to the Americas that Prussia had found himself remembering their conversation for the first time since. He felt proud upon remembering how easy it had been to make a friend and Canada had seemed happy too. It was a good feeling. On a whim, he decided to try something.

"Hey, Bird. You'll do a favour for me, right?" The bird dipped its tiny head in assent.

"Awesome. Just like old times." He chuckled to himself upon remembering.

For a few minutes afterwards, he was busy, composing a short letter to the very best of his ability. There were a few mistakes and in some places the wording was clunky, but still he was proud of the effort and suspected it would be appreciated. Who wouldn't appreciate such a gesture from him of all people? With quiet satisfaction, he rolled up the paper and tied it to the little bird's leg with a piece of old string. Bird fluffed its neck feathers indignantly, but took to the air without too much trouble aside from a slight lurch to the right. He scooped it from the air and petted its head gently. "Take this letter to Canada, Vogel? You're my special buddy. You'll find it." It fluttered its tiny wings as he threw it into the air, and soon it was but a speck in the distance. He watched it go, before long and walked away to get on with life and everything else.

**A/N: Heh, I'm not going to apologise for the length of this chapter, seeing as the last two were kinda massive. (For me, anyway. They took an age to write.) Sorry it took so long though. Anyway, from here on in, the backstory part is pretty much done, so now it will probably move on to a more consecutive kind of plot. Halfway done, woot! Anyway, thanks for everything, and hopefully **


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